


Tell me I'm a bad man...

by weekendgothgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Implied Torture, M/M, Non Consensual, Psychological Torture, Sadistic!Crowley, Torture, light physical torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:36:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekendgothgirl/pseuds/weekendgothgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has Castiel right where he wants him and he's going to take his time.</p>
<p>Non-con. See tags for warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell me I'm a bad man...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [agirlnamedtruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/gifts).



> Written for V from her prompt: Supernatural, Castiel/Crowley, deal, rough, pride, drink, torture.
> 
> I know you like Cas on his knees, so I'm gonna give him to you (I need him back this evening though okay? ;) )  
> I also want to thank her for all her help, thanks so much my love <3

Crowley hums to himself as he swirls the whiskey in his tumbler, he's feeling incredibly self-satisfied after his plan came together so well. He smirks down at Cas as he digs his heels into the soft skin at the base of his spine. It had been easier than he'd thought to trap and keep his Angel; his very own Castiel. He’d thought that they'd have had more of a fight, perhaps more layers of magic and trickery woven together but there hadn't been. All he needed was the right kind of iron clad contract and he knows contracts better than anyone; living or dead. That was what he did for a living after all.

Tipping his head back he drains his glass, the last of the amber liquid burning pleasantly down his throat, smooth and luxurious. With a snap of his fingers his glass refills and the fire in front of him burns brighter. His eyes travel down Castiel’s naked body as a strong ache of possessiveness and pride stabs through his chest, mingled with the heat of whiskey and flames. Something else too, if he lets himself acknowledge it. 

He always thought that Castiel deserved to be higher up than some of his brothers- not that he'd admit it but Cas had something that most of them didn't. He was worth keeping. Hell, he could wax lyrical about all the stuff that Castiel has that none of his family could ever hope to have but he doesn't want to, he wants to have fun. 

His eyes run along Castiels body again, one last time. He lingers on the sight of sweat on his vessels brow, watching as a drop makes its way from his temple to chin. Licking his lips, Crowley’s eyes trace over the straight lines of Castiel’s arms and legs, taking in the sight of his knees pressing hard against the stone floor and how they must have bruised by now. Watches the muscles twitch and shake from the effort of holding himself up for hours. He saves his favourite parts for last, lingering longer on them. He almost wants to reach out and stroke over the bow of Cas' back and the dents where he's shoving his heels into the skin. His blood runs hotter through his veins at the deep red colour of the flesh and he fights against the urge. Instead he grinds his heels deeper and deeper into the hollows, trying to rid himself of the want through the pleasure of the pain he's inflicting. 

He smiles smugly when he finally makes Cas shift and gasp in pain and it hits him harder than he ever thought it could. The effect doubles when Castiel moves again and Crowley watches the swell of his ass, the shift of muscles and the sway of his blood heavy cock. He knows the Angel would never admit it but he likes being here like this. Held and used and punished for his failures. If his father can't or won't do it then he'll accept it from the king of Hell. 

Tilting his head, Crowley considers the being below him and wonders, as he does on rare occasions, whether the man below him had known what he was doing and signed the contract anyway. Those moments usually go pretty quickly though, made to disappear with a twitch of his wrist as blades slice at vulnerable skin.

Carefully Crowley smoothes his pant leg free of invisible wrinkles, he’s getting ahead of himself and he’d rather enjoy the moment.

He swallows down his whiskey in one long movement and digs his heels in one last time before standing. He fixes his suit jacket, letting it fall in the right position before curling his fingers into Castiel’s hair and yanking his head up to face him. He smirks down at the Angel, hidden so deeply in Hell that his brothers could never free him, no matter how hard they tried. 

Turning Castiel’s face, Crowley makes him look at the corner to the left of the fireplace and with another click of his fingers his favourite workbench appears. The dark metal cross glints dully in the firelight and flashes of light from the shining knives play over the straps. Watching Castiel swallow hard, Adam’s apple bobbing with a trace of nerves at last, Crowley’s smirk deepens and he drags his Angel over. 

Now they’re really going to get started.


End file.
